


How Brave Are We Willing to Be?

by ReaOfSun



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, awkward lesbians, finally talking about their feelings, it's very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaOfSun/pseuds/ReaOfSun
Summary: Spoilers for C2E114Beau reads Yasha's poem and decides that they really need to talk.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 7
Kudos: 174





	How Brave Are We Willing to Be?

**Author's Note:**

> Well y'all it's been several years since I wrote fic for anything but this scene would not leave me alone until I wrote it all out. My writing feels rusty as hell and who knows if the characterization is accurate but I figured I'd put this out there for anyone who doesn't mind and is similarly desperate to see Beau react to the poem. So, here it is.

Beau stared at the poem in her hands after she finished reading it.

She read it again.

And again.

And again.

So … Yasha liked her, right? There couldn’t be a platonic explanation for that poem. Probably. But then … why didn’t Yasha just explicitly confess her feelings in the poem? The opportunity was right there. The contents of the poem certainly implied that Yasha had feelings for her, but…

Beau stood in her bedroom in Caleb’s tower, clutching the poem, feeling more confused than ever.

Well. The ball is back in her court, now.

She made her way to Yasha’s room on the floor below. She heard harp music coming from the inside and wanted to stop to listen but also did not want to lose her nerve. Before she could change her mind, she knocked quickly on the door.

The music stopped and the door opened a few moments later. Yasha’s eyes widened as she saw Beau on the other side. 

“Hey Yasha. Can we talk?”

Yasha swallowed hard and then nodded. “Come in.”

Beau walked through Yasha’s chambers to the bedroom where Yasha had been practicing, the barbarian following behind her. 

Beau motioned to the harp. “You’ve gotten really good at that.”

Yasha’s cheeks went slightly pink. “Thank you. I still make many mistakes but I find it very relaxing to practice.”

Beau nodded. “That’s good.” There was a beat of silence before she blurted, “I read your poem.”

Yasha’s eyes got wider. “Oh. Uh, good. What … what did you think?”

Beau let out a nervous chuckle. “It was … I think the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She looked down and licked her lips. “But I need to ask you something. It kinda felt like you were– maybe trying to say something with that poem, but without actually saying it. And I don’t want to misunderstand. So, uh … why did you write me that poem?”

Yasha’s eyes went as wide as they could probably go. “I, uh … think you’re really great.”

Beau stared at her. The tension in the room was almost too much to bear.

Yasha looked like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words for it. Her face was turning pinker by the second. “Yeah, I just, uh, wanted to, you know, let you know … that you’ve got abs? And blue eyes. Er, why– why did you come here?”

And it was at this moment that Beau realized the absurdity of their situation.

Here they were, two competent and badass women, who (she was almost certain) had feelings for each other but continued to dance around them even after everything they had gone through. They had gone on a romantic flight together, taken down a T-rex together, discovered a government official murdered by a cult leader who wore the skin of their dead friend together … and still they danced.

She started to laugh.

Yasha froze. “Beau?”

Beau walked over to Yasha’s bed and flopped down onto it, staring up at the ceiling and letting her feet dangle off the edge. She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “We’ve gone through so much crazy shit together, done so many wild things. Why is this so hard?”

Yasha did not respond immediately and Beau started to worry that she had upset her, but when she sat up on the bed she saw Yasha’s mortified expression had faded into an embarrassed but amused smile. 

The tension in the room broke.

Yasha came over and sat next to Beau, leaving just a few inches of space between them. “It’s hard because I am … afraid. And also not so good at the whole ‘talking’ thing.”

“What’re you afraid of?”

Yasha paused for a moment, thinking. “Of making a mistake,” she admitted. “Of … of losing you.”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. If it helps, you’re not the only one who’s afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of … the same things, I guess. And of …” Beau looked down at the floor, “… pushing you to do something you’re not ready for.”

Yasha’s mismatched eyes were serious. “I … was not ready,” she replied. “For a long time. I still think about Zuala often and feel guilty about her death. But I have started to heal. It was unexpected, and for a time it made me feel bad, because in my tribe we mate for life. But recently I have started to think about the traditions in our tribe and they don’t necessarily seem … healthy? Forcing people to marry someone they do not love, and executing them if they disobey … it is kind of horrible. And that makes me think some of our other traditions could be unhealthy, too.”

“Wow. Yeah. I’m– I’m glad to hear you’ve been healing. I didn’t know Zuala but … I feel like she wouldn’t want to see you beating yourself up over something forever or not letting yourself be happy, y’know?” Beau regretted the words almost as soon as they left her lips and she winced. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“–No, it’s okay Beau. Don’t apologize,” Yasha said. “You’re … right, actually. I had a dream when we were on Rumblecusp, the night before I tried out my wings. Zuala was there, sort of, and she– she told me to not let her be a shackle. Wherever she is now, she just … wants me to be happy, I think.”

Beau swallowed hard. “That sounds like an intense dream.”

“It was,” Yasha replied. “But it was needed. And it helped me a lot with … figuring out my feelings.” She looked down at the floor, blushing.

Beau felt her heartbeat quicken. “You said you weren’t ready for a long time. Are– are you ready now?” she asked. “And please, there’s no correct answer to this, you don’t have to–”

Beau’s words cut off in surprise as Yasha reached over and took Beau’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. Beau looked over at her to see her blushing but smiling, her eyes as soft as Beau had ever seen them. “Would I have written you terrible poetry if I were not ready?”

Beau laughed and knocked her shoulder against Yasha’s playfully. “Hey, I loved every word of that poem, so don’t you dare call it terrible.”

Yasha’s eyes were sparkling as she smiled. “As you wish.”

Beau looked down at their intertwined hands. “So, you’re healing, but there’s still … all the other shit. Us being afraid of fucking up or losing each other– or both.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “So, I guess the question is–” She looked up and met Yasha’s eyes. “–how brave are we willing to be?”

Yasha squeezed her hand. “For this? For you? Pretty brave.”

“Me too,” Beau replied quietly. “So then, let me ask you again–” She clutched Yasha’s hand like a lifeline as she asked, “–why did you write me that poem?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Yasha whispered.

Beau felt her heart squeeze in her chest at the words. She reached over with her free hand and cupped Yasha’s cheek, brushing her thumb lightly over her cheekbone. “I’m in love with you too,” Beau said softly.

Yasha’s answering smile was the most beautiful thing Beau had ever seen. “Can I kiss you?” Yasha asked.

Struck speechless, Beau just nodded and let go of Yasha’s hand to pull her face towards her with both hands. Their lips met and Beau’s heart was pounding out of her chest and Yasha’s lips were rough and chapped and her fingers were caressing the shorn hair on the side of Beau’s head and it all felt like coming home. Yasha’s mouth was eager against her own and Beau melted into the kiss, burying her hands in Yasha’s hair.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Yasha’s eyes were shining as she rested her forehead against Beau’s. “I have wanted to do that for … so long. You’ve not made it easy to resist, you know.”

Beau laughed, surprised. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Yasha said. “You are talented and brave and do so many cool things … and then I see you do those cool things and want to kiss you very badly.”

“Damn, I had no idea. You hid it well. But,” she grinned at Yasha, “you don’t have to resist anymore.”

“Good,” Yasha murmured, and she leaned in to kiss Beau again.


End file.
